Chapter 2

Caleb pretended to keep taking delivery shifts. He left every morning in his faded jacket and returned at night with stories about rude customers and bad tips.

He spent most days gambling at a casino while he waited for the Beaumont lawyers to finish whatever paperwork remained. But a man with a net worth above $14 million had too many temptations. Sports cars. Golf clubs. Resort weekends. Charity galas. Auctions.

Graduation was close. If Caleb wanted to make a big splash in front of our classmates, he was running out of time.

Gambling no longer felt upscale enough.

On the fifth night, he tried again.

"That professor your mother mentioned," he said. "Maybe you should meet him. Just once."

"Sure."

He stared. "Sure?"

"You think he's a good choice. Why not?"

Caleb's jaw tightened, though he had gotten exactly what he claimed to want.

The following afternoon, I arrived early at a coffee shop near campus. To pass the time, I watched the numbers above strangers' heads.

A woman in designer clothes had negative net worth. A man in dusty work boots had six figures. At the next table, a young woman begged a married man for a purse while his wedding ring flashed under the pendant light.

I almost told her she was richer than he was.

Then a man sat across from me.

"Jenna Reed? I'm the guy Mrs. Palmer set you up with. Your mom's friend."

My first instinct was to look above his head.

I nearly dropped my water.

His number was exactly the same as Caleb's.

He was handsome, fit, and dressed with the quiet precision of someone who had never checked a price tag. Yet he introduced himself as Miles Beaumont, a software engineer at a major tech company with an $85,000 salary.

He said his family owned a house and two cars. He spoke as though that explained everything.

"What kind of engineering?" I asked.

"Infrastructure."

"Which systems?"

He paused just long enough to confirm he had expected a social interview, not technical follow-up. Then he named a few credible tools and steered the conversation toward travel.

I asked where he had studied. He named an excellent university but no dorm, professor, or story from those years. He asked what I wanted from a relationship. I said honesty. He smiled as if I had made a charming joke.

Everything about him was polished except the explanation for why he was sitting across from me.

The number above his head remained identical to Caleb's down to the last digit. That could not be coincidence. Either the ability had malfunctioned for the first time, or the two men were tied to the same pool of wealth.

Miles watched me watching him. His expression was mild, but his attention was sharp.

I folded my arms and listened to him reduce a fortune to a respectable paycheck.

Finally, he stopped. "Ms. Reed, are you not interested?"

"I'm interested in honest people."

I stood before he could answer.

Outside, Miles caught up with me. "At least let me drive you home."

I should have refused. Instead, I looked at the number over his head one more time and got into the car.

On the ride back, I pulled up the social-media profile Miles had followed me from that morning.

His public feed was empty. The bio gave me almost nothing. No tagged photos. No old school. No workplace beyond the vague tech-company claim.

I locked my phone.

Miles glanced over. "Did I disappoint you somehow?"

"Not especially."

"That's a very discouraging answer."

"I'm home. Thanks for the ride."

Caleb stood at our window smoking when I came upstairs. He used to buy the cheapest pack at the gas station. Now he was smoking a premium cigarette brand. He must have assumed I wouldn't notice the difference.

"I saw him drop you off," he said.

"He was fine. A little full of himself. Not as manly as you."

Caleb's mouth lifted.

"Maybe I shouldn't see him again," I continued. "Staying with you isn't so bad."

His pleasure vanished. "Jenna, be realistic. You're pretty, but you're not a perfect ten. You can't reject every stable man your mother finds."

I tilted my head. "He drives a Mercedes. It probably cost around $70,000. If I married him, at least I wouldn't have to live on cheap takeout."

Caleb scoffed. "That's one car. I could buy you ten."

Silence.

He realized what he had said.

I let him watch me understand.

After a long moment, he lowered his voice. "I do care about you. That's why I'm saying this. If you don't want hardship, date him."

He got to be generous. He got to be wounded. He got to be the noble poor boyfriend releasing me for my own good.

I was suddenly exhausted.

"Fine."

I walked past him toward the bathroom.

His arms closed around me from behind.

"Jenna," he murmured against my hair, "if we're really ending this, can we do it one last time?"

Every tender memory I had been mourning disappeared.